


and it's love and it's fear (it's all the things that didn't get you here)

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Gen, M/M, bertrand centric, implied Violet Snicket theory, opera night and consequences, this be the verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 01:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: For a long time afterwards, one of his most frequent dreams starred a poison dart flying out his hand in slow motion, landing right on the targeted neck of a very specific opera-goer, before it started flying back in an even slower motion, slowly cutting through space and time as years went by in another direction, aiming straight at his heart.He always woke up before the dart hit him, but he thought one day maybe he wouldn’t be able to escape it anymore, whether literally or figuratively.What was that thing the poem said?“Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don’t have any kids yourself.”[alternatively: Bertrand Baudelaire vs This Be The Verse]





	and it's love and it's fear (it's all the things that didn't get you here)

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE
> 
> please don't copy this story to another site
> 
> title from the lyrics of Dr Dog's song It

“It might be a selfish thing to ask,” Jacques said during their breakup conversation. “But if you - if you ever get serious with anyone, or if you ever start dating someone - could you let me know?”

Bertrand was quiet for a few moments before saying. “Alright.” He hesitated. “If I could ask something of you also.”

“Go ahead.”

“In the unlikely, very hypothetical scenario where I have children, they’re off limits when it comes to VFD recruitment.”

Jacques frowned at him, his lips thinning into a tight line. “And here I thought_ I _was asking a lot.”

“Jacques - ”

“I know you don’t really agree with the recruitment process,” Jacques cut across him, and Bertrand thought that ‘don’t really agree’ was really a mild way of putting it, but decided not to counter this. “But I know you know enough about it to know I’m not in charge of making the decisions, just executing the order. And if you want me to not to do it - and I decline the mission - they’ll just send someone else. I _know_ you know that. If you think about it, would you rather someone else do it than me?”

Bertrand exhaled sharply, and then said, very slowly. “What are you saying? Better the recruiter I know than the recruiter I don’t?”

Jacques gave him a cold look, apparently displeased by the substitution of ‘devil’ with ‘recruiter’ in that age old phrase and the perhaps implied meaning of it. “I think that’s a rather unfair way to phrase it but, essentially, yes.”

Bertrand turned slightly to stare out of the window. ‘Or maybe they don’t need to know the mission’s incomplete.” He said, voice carefully neutral.

Jacques scoffed. “What am I, those contract killers who help fake the deaths of their targets in those shitty mystery novels you used to read? Faking recruitment documentation? Is that what you’re asking me?”

Bertrand shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket. “Okay, forget it. Orders come first, I get it. Whatever.”

“No, seriously, if you’re all about faking mission completion in the name of what you think is right, how come you didn’t stage that opera night?” Jacques asked, his voice sharp.

Bertrand flinched. “Look - I’m sorry I brought this up. Just - forget I asked anything. You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. It’s a hypothetical situation anyway - one that I doubt would happen.”

“Then why did you ask?”

He shrugged unhappily. “Because the future could be unpredictable sometimes and - I just thought if that happens at least I could’ve taken some measures to prevent certain things. Thought it might be worth a shot to ask. But you’re right, I’m asking too much of you. Just, forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”

* * *

The truth was, if he would prefer not to have children in the future before La Forza del Destino occurred, the night only further firmly cemented his thoughts. For a long time afterwards, one of his most frequent dreams starred a poison dart flying out his hand in slow motion, landing right on the targeted neck of a very specific opera-goer, before it started flying back in an even slower motion, slowly cutting through space and time as years went by in another direction, aiming straight at his heart.

He always woke up before the dart hit him, but he thought one day maybe he wouldn’t be able to escape it anymore, whether literally or figuratively.

* * *

What was that thing the poem said? “_Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don’t have any kids yourself_.” 

If before La Forza del Destino he’d thought having children would inevitably cause them to sooner or later got entangled with VFD, a fate he’d now resigned himself to because it was too late for him to choose otherwise, and that he should try his best to not give anyone this misery that he could prevent - it was a whole new level after the opera night occurred. How could he not expect karma to catch up one day, how could he not logically expect vengeance once the guy whom he’d orphaned found out what he had done, how could he simply think his children would be able to grow up safely without someone murdering him and his future partner sooner or later as revenge? And after growing up as an orphan himself and knowing how much more susceptible to recruitment orphans were, how could he even _consider_ the possibility of having children?

* * *

The poison dart flew away from him towards Olaf’s mother, sitting in the VIP box which claimed one of the best views. Best views also meant easily seen by others, he realized. Like a shiny target in the dark, all too obvious.

Once upon a time, he’d been innocent enough.

* * *

Jacques in his long trench coat, wearing a hat that almost covered half of his face. Kit meeting his eyes as she passed Beatrice the box of poison darts. The Snicket Taxi and the backseat he and Jacques once made out in. The Snicket Taxi and the trunk large enough to fit a few kids in. Jacques leaning against the taxi, a cigarette in hand. Beatrice counting down from three to one before they fired the dart. The message that said “Olaf knows”. The poison dart flying out out of his hand. The VFD insignia everywhere.

They’re every nostalgia-inducing memory Bertrand hadn’t been able to let go, and every nightmare he hadn’t been able to wake up from.

He still didn’t know how.

* * *

Violet was - not really a surprise. He’d known when he and Beatrice had first gotten together. She’d been upfront about her situation with Lemony.

What was more surprising to him was that the baby would slowly changed his mind about children as he helped Beatrice with her, from carefully refraining to think of himself in the role of the father to accepting it.

Before he’d realized it, she was an important, irreplaceable part of his life.

* * *

Did that mean he’d forgotten about all the concerns he’d had? No. Not really. Not ever, probably. But he wasn’t going to just run away from this and abandon everything, because that’s not going to solve anything. Plus, if anyone understood how he felt, it was Beatrice, who fired the poison dart with him.

They’d have to cut ties with VFD more forcefully, more cleanly, that was all. They could do that. Maybe. Possibly. It was the logical conclusion, after all.

Didn’t mean it was an easy one.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t lonely as hell.

He never really forgot the leather smell of seats of the taxi had, or how Jacques used to smile faintly at him from the driver’s seat.

Once upon a time, they might’ve worked out.

* * *

In that recurring dream, the poison dart landed on the targeted neck before flying back, aiming at his heart. He didn’t wake up before it hit this time. The dart landed accurately, a taxi drove by and picked up Violet, he woke up in cold sweat to the echo of Jacques’ voice saying “better the recruiter you know than the recruiter you don’t”.

He didn’t tell Beatrice about the dream.

* * *

Beatrice convinced him that since they had - mostly - left VFD now, they could start a new life. That they could be free from the past, and that if they had more children, the children could protect each other against danger instead of being all alone if anything ever happened to the two of them.

“Like the way Snickets have each other, you know?” She said.

He remembered how he once said to Kit that no matter what happened she would always be family to Jacques, and how bitter he’d been not sharing the same privilege and was instead in the position where he could (and eventually did) lose Jacques one day. He remembered worrying everyone else would at least have each other left, but he would have no one if he played his cards wrong and ended up losing everyone. Like the way he had lost his parents and lost his adoptive parents, probably.

He’d been so scared.

He remembered thinking that the VFD recruiting was unfair on them all, but at least some of them had siblings to rely on.

“Yeah,” he said, voice almost cracking. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


End file.
